


In Sickness

by Xela



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Multi, Polyamory, Sickfic, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xela/pseuds/Xela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monroe gets sick and is an idiot. Luckily, Juliette and Nick are there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness

Monroe groans and turns into his couch cushions, hiding his face from the light. His throat hurts, his eyes feel like they might just pop out of his head at any minute, and he remembers, distantly, a time where breathing didn't feel like someone stabbing tiny little knives inside his chest. He's thirsty and vaguely hungry but getting up is a chore.

His phone buzzes and he grunts out a negative. He's a clock maker, there's no such thing as a clock emergency. But a few minutes later (probably, his time sense is a little off these days) it buzzes again, so he reaches blindly towards the side table and doesn't give a shit when something crashes to the ground. He finds his phone and pulls it into his warm cocoon. The display is too bright, but with a little squinting he makes out the text from Juliette, asking him if he'll be coming over.

They've been...dating, or fooling around, or whatever, for a couple of months now. It was weird, at first, but Monroe's pretty much come to terms with being Nick-and-Juliette's third on the side. He doesn’t mind being the spice in their love life from time to time. (Need to rekindle the romance? Just add blutbaden! Limit one per couple.) It’s cool. Most of the time. 

_Can’t, something’s come up, keep Nick in line for me!_ he texts back (it only takes him seven minutes, woo). He almost immediately gets back a series of little frowney faces and sighs. He’d love nothing more than to curl around Nick or Juliette (or, really, between them) and ride this out but that’s not what they have. Not what they are. So he resigns himself to shivering on the couch and being miserable for a couple more days.

Except _of course_ life doesn’t work that way and there’s someone pounding insistently on his door. When ignoring it doesn’t make it stop, that can only mean one thing. Monroe hauls himself out of bed and staggers to the door.

“Nick.”

“Monroe, I think I…what’s wrong?”

“I caught the flu. What do you need, I’m already missing my couch.” In fact, the door is the only thing keeping him standing, but Nick doesn’t need to know that. Nick’s staring at him with narrowed eyes, which makes Monroe nervous, so he snatches (more like clumsily grabs, which means Nick’s really distracted) the sketch from Nick’s hands. His vision’s swimming a little, but no, that’s just as weird looking as he thought. “Vielfrass. Dog-cat thing with really bizarre eating habits. Look in the trees it…squishes itself after the kill okay, gotta go lie down now, don’t get eaten I think Juliette has something planned.” He closes the door in Nick’s face and slumps against it, trying to summon the energy it’ll take to make it back to the couch.

***

Monroe wakes up to the sound of his door flying open.

“Monroe!” He bats ineffectively at the millions of hands touching his face and chest, invading his personal space because what? Someone hauls him up, shoves pills and water and what must be Gatorade down his throat.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Monroe croaks.

“Good.” And he’s promptly flicked on the nose.

“Wait, what—” he protests, but his muscles must have atrophied because he can’t really move his arms, so he just kind of flails until Juliette forces his arms under the blanket.

“The flu is not something that just _came up._ ” He blinks up at Juliette, his sluggish brain trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He looks over and sees Nick come out of his kitchen with a steaming bowl of something that probably smells delicious. He looks down and Juliette is smearing Vick’s vaporub on his chest.

“Why are you—” Juliette grabs the bowl and shoves a spoon in Monroe’s mouth. It’s…really good, the perfect temperature, and exactly what he needs.

“No talking.” Monroe glances at Nick, who shrugs and smiles at him, and obediently opens his mouth for more soup. He lets Nick move his feet and sit on the couch, then move his feet onto Nick’s lap, warm fingers brushing over fever-heated skin.

Juliette finishes spoon-feeding him, then gently lifts Monroe’s head and lays it on her lap. Her fingers gently massage the tension in his head, soothing the muscles around his eyes. It feels…it feels nice. Comfortable. Exactly how he imagined it would. He’s still trying to wrap his head around them being here, but decides to wait until he’s got processing power to spare.

“Why didn’t you call us?” Juliette asks softly. So softly Monroe almost misses it. Nick’s hand tightens around his ankle then resumes his gentle massage.

“’m jus’ sick,” Monroe slurs, rubbing his face against her jeans. “Didn’ want to, to bother. Yer both—” He waves his hand to illustrate his point then gives up. He can blame this all on the fever later.

He’s surprised at the lightening-quick kiss pressed to his lips.

“Monroe,” Juliette says fondly, with a little bit of _you idiot_ thrown in, “don’t you know that you’re pack?”


End file.
